Marking Time (The Immortal Descendants)

by April White

  “You think so? Prove it.” There’s nothing like arrogance to get me going.

  “Fine.” I pulled one of my own long hairs then reached my hand out for the Bear’s head.

  “I need another one, and I’m pulling it this time.”

  I could tell he was trying not to laugh and it annoyed me even more. He inclined his head toward me and I intentionally grabbed a couple of extra hairs.

  “Got enough?”

  “No, stay there, I might need another handful.” The expression of amusement on Mr. Shaw’s face was contagious. I positioned my hair and one of his side-by-side, directly under the lens. The old microscope was very cool to use; the knobs felt good in my hands and the optics were really precise. I fiddled with the knobs, playing with focus and light. But the image didn’t lie. Except for the color, my hair and Mr. Shaw’s were exactly the same.

  I stood suddenly, sweeping the hair off the slide and knocking into his desk as I did. His hand shot out to steady the microscope, but I was already at the door.

  “I have to go.” I slipped out of his office door before Mr. Shaw could reach me and I took off running at full speed down the hall.

  “Saira! Wait!”

  I didn’t even look behind me.

  Lineage

  At first, I just ran. Everyone must have still been at dinner because I saw no one in the halls. And the whirlpool in my stomach wasn’t from hunger, so I wouldn’t be joining them.

  Somehow my feet took me up to the third floor and I realized I wanted my stuff. I found the linen closet Ava hid my suitcase in, threw some clean towels, a set of sheets and a duvet on top, and wheeled the whole thing toward my North wing.

  My luck with deserted corridors held and I was able to maneuver everything down to my new digs without being seen. I started breathing again once the North wing door was locked behind me, but nothing calmed my hammering heart. Why the hell did a Clocker girl have the same hair as a Shifter, when Shifter hair was so obviously different than the normal human kind? There had to be a rational explanation for that. Like maybe all the Families had wacky hair and it was the thing that made us genetically different from regular humans?

  I spent the next fifteen minutes silencing my brain. I made my bed, unpacked my suitcase and put stuff away. I realized it was the first time I’d unpacked since I’d landed in England. I had no intention of staying at St. Brigid’s longer than it took my mom to get back, but I finally felt like I had a little space to call my own.

  And that was only because no one realized I was there. That’s how I’d always liked it. Being sort of invisible kept me away from trouble in every new city my mom moved us to.

  I set the Caves and Caverns book on my nightstand and tucked my spray paint cans into the bottom drawer of the dresser. The red can had been lost with my backpack, presumably still somewhere in the 19th century, along with my passport and extra money. And my mom. And Archer.

  Archer! I looked out the window at the last few slivers of light in the sky. He’d be waking now. I pictured him in his hidden cellar room, lighting his oil lamp, maybe reading until the school got quiet enough to venture out. I needed to talk to him. And yet talking to anyone was pretty much the last thing I wanted to do at that moment.

  I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes, trying to block thoughts out of my head. And failing miserably. I just knew that if I spent too much time spinning on my genetic heritage I was going to make myself nuts. I already had too much on my plate – like how to learn what I needed to know about my family, my skills, and traveling in time. Then there’s the whole “only Clocker” thing that I’d been trying not to think about. Because if I truly was the last of my family line Millicent wasn’t going to let up. I’d be the only one left to take over when she kicked. Not something I wanted to dwell on.

  At least the Bear was willing to teach me. That was something. Despite the fact he was huge, gruff, slightly predatory, and had a tendency toward strictness, I liked the guy. He knew interesting stuff, and seemed to actually like teaching it to people who wanted to learn. And buried under his forbidding exterior was a wicked sense of humor. I hoped I hadn’t ruined things by bolting from his office because he was my best shot for learning anything in this place.

  My stomach growled and suddenly I realized I was starving. I hoped there was still some of Mrs. Taylor’s roast chicken left because I really had no idea of the meal schedule for this place. Add it to the list of things I needed to learn. I don’t know why people say teenagers think they know everything. It seemed like every day there was another reminder of all the things I knew nothing about.

  I found a back-stair route down to the dining room. The place was nearly empty when I finally got there. The food had already been cleared away and Annie was just pulling the last of the dinner rolls.

  “Wait!” I snatched the bread from the basket Annie carried. She was about to smack my hand away but then saw it was me. I did my best to look sheepish. “I’m sorry – I didn’t get to eat.”

  Annie clucked and shook her head. “I’ve a bit saved in the kitchen. Ye can have some if ye keep it quiet.” I beamed at her and picked up some empty food trays to help her carry. “You’re the best!”

  She winked at me. “And don’t ye forget it!”

  I tried to help Annie clear the rest of the dining room but she shooed me away, so I took my covered plate of chicken and potatoes and slipped out to the walled kitchen garden. I closed the heavy wooden door behind me and found a bench near a wall to sit and eat my picnic dinner.

  After inhaling the excellent food I got up to explore the space a little. I bent to smell some mint and uncovered a forgotten tomato lurking in the leaves. I poked around some more, finding rosemary, thyme and even some new winter savory. Every discovery of an herb or vegetable reminded me of my mom. Gardening was her thing and she’d always dragged me out to do it with her.

  We would pull weeds or plant tomatoes and she would ask me about school or what I was reading. She insisted that I could tell her anything. But the fact is, she had never confided in me. She’d never told me the truth about her family, her history, her abilities, my ability – nothing that was really important to my own understanding of who I am. And if I couldn’t count on that from my own mother…

  “Saira.” A smooth voice from somewhere behind me murmured my name. Archer.

  I turned to face him. “It’s a little early for you to be out, isn’t it?”

  He stared at me, frozen still. The placid look on his face couldn’t hide the look in his eyes. Nervousness? Fear? I wasn’t sure. “You know.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yeah. I know. When were you going to tell me?”

  “I didn’t have a plan.”

  He was seriously nervous about my reaction to his Vampire-ness. I decided to lighten things up. I looked around at the still pale sky. “You’re smashing stereotypes by being out in daylight.”

  He smiled very slightly. “The sun set ten minutes ago.”

  “Isn’t that just a technicality?”

  He shrugged. “It’s life or burning for eternity to me, so I think I’ll take the technicality.”

  I arched my eyebrow. “Well, life-ish.”

  He grinned. “Another technicality.”

  He squatted down near my feet and crushed a leaf between his fingers to smell. “Mmm, tarragon. Our cook used to brown butter with it to brush onto roasted fish.”

  I stared at him. “That was what? About a million years ago?”

  He smiled faintly. “There are things I’ll never stop missing until the day I end.”

  Interesting choice of words. But I was already dwelling in morbidity and didn’t want to go there. “Like what? What do you miss?”

  “My father was a hunter. All the nobility were, but he was especially well-known for his excellent hunting dogs.” Archer’s voice finally found a relaxed and easy-going cadence. “They were magnificent. Nobles from all around England tried to buy his dogs but he always refused.”


  “What’s so special about hunting dogs? They had guns back then, right? Why use dogs to kill the animals?”

  “Oh, the dogs didn’t kill them. They drove them. The hunters were really just along for the ride. Horsemanship was important and it was always an honor to be chosen for the kill, but the dogs did all the work.”

  “How is that noble?” The idea of a pack of dogs running some poor stag into the ground hardly seemed sporting.

  “It’s the tradition of it that was considered noble. Wild boar were always easy to justify as they destroyed the farmland of my father’s tenants. But they were dangerous too, so hunters didn’t often go after something that could fight back so effectively.”

  “English honor at its finest.”

  “Hunters are honorable.”

  “Why? Did they need the meat to survive?”

  “Oh, they never ate the animal they hunted. The meat was too often poisoned by adrenaline, which tastes foul.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “And I guess you would know.”

  To his credit, he winced. “I would know.”

  “So, explain the honor in your hunts?”

  “Well, stags – actually all deer – are unable to sweat, so to keep from overheating as they ran, the stags would invariably end up in a lake or pond. That’s where the dogs cornered them.” I rolled my eyes, but Archer continued. “Every once in a while a stag would give the hunters a particularly good run, and my father would reward it by letting the animal live.”

  “Sure, beaten, exhausted, and easy prey for the next predator to come along.”

  Archer sighed. “The point is the beast earned its freedom.”

  “So how is it you miss that? It seems like something you could do nightly now. Even the noble part of letting your prey go every once in a while.”

  Archer looked at me for a long moment. I’d stepped way over the line with that comment, I was sure, but I didn’t back down. I wanted to see who he had become in the last hundred and twenty-five years.

  “I miss that feeling of being mentored by my father. He was very strict with his instructions and I hated it at the time, but I always knew he was training me to be the kind of man he could admire. Someone with honor and a sense of fair play, even inside something as seemingly barbaric as killing an animal.” Archer picked up a pebble from the path and threw it against the far wall. “It was an interesting lesson to learn.”

  “But you said you didn’t think your dad cared about you.”

  He turned toward me and looked me in the eyes. “Which isn’t to say I didn’t care about him.” Archer stood and brushed himself off. He held out his hand to help me up, and I took it to stand. He didn’t let go and we walked along the path in silence.

  “Are you learning what you came here to find out?”

  I nodded. “In bits and pieces.”

  His eyes locked on mine. “There are things I can teach you too. As soon as you’re ready, meet me here and we’ll go.” His eyes never left mine. The last of the sunlight dipped from the sky and I knew someone would come looking for me soon.

  “When did you build the room in the cellar?”

  Archer’s eyes widened. “How do you know about that?”

  “I found it today. I saw you sleeping.” Archer’s expression was suddenly cold and very distant. Whatever line I’d danced on before was nothing in comparison to what I’d just crossed. I backpedaled. “No one saw me go in, and it obviously hasn’t been found by anyone else.”

  His features were still like stone. “People get careless. If you come again I’ll leave this place. Alone.”

  I could feel my skin prickle defensively. “Do what you want. I won’t go anywhere near your room again.”

  I turned to leave and Archer’s voice came quietly out of the darkness. “I’ve been coming to St. Brigid’s for a hundred years. I used to watch the Elian children at school, always hoping I’d see some sign of you in them.”

  I spun around to face him, ask questions, accuse him of… something, but he was gone. The place where my Vampire had been was just empty night. I opened the heavy garden door, slipped outside, and closed it softly behind me.

  Discoveries

  I woke up in my little room with the sun just coming up over the horizon. The Caves and Caverns of England book was still on my chest and I was stiff from not moving all night.

  I tried not to make old-person noises as I creaked my way out of bed, but I finally felt the last few days of craziness embedded in my muscles. Not to mention the army that had taken up residence in my mouth and stomped their muddy boots all over my teeth. Blech.

  Caves and Caverns was a cool book and I was fascinated by the Blackheath caverns and London Bridge catacombs before I fell asleep. I put it aside for further investigation.

  I hoped it was early enough that I could do a little exploring in the library before anyone else got up. It was also cold in the manor so I threw on jeans, boots and a big white fisherman’s sweater my mom had made when she was young. I always assumed the sweater was for my dad, but she never talked about it and I found it in the bottom of a trunk when we moved to Venice. It was my favorite – a big turtleneck with a cabled pattern and my mom never said a word whenever I wore it.

  I’d showered quickly the night before, hoping people wouldn’t wonder about the sound of running water in an empty hall. But no one investigated and I was beginning to relax a little about my private room. I only hoped the Crow would keep her mouth shut.

  I checked out my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Teeth brushed, face scrubbed, hair in a single braid down my back. That was about it for my morning ritual. There was no one I felt like impressing and I couldn’t be bothered putting on make-up. I still had a little tan left from Venice so I didn’t look like a corpse in the white sweater. Funny how these things take on a whole new meaning in a world where Vampires actually exist.

  It was barely six a.m. and I made it to the library without meeting anyone, though I could hear movement from the kitchens. I brought my little Maglite with me, stuck in my back pocket and I was in search of anything that could help me understand my family in particular and all the other Immortals’ Descendants in general. After a fairly dusty search in the stacks I found an interesting historical genealogy-type book about Shifters and settled down at a table by the window to flip through it.

  I had to search a little to find the Shaw family line, but I finally found Mr. Shaw at the bottom of a small branch. I traced up from him and found his ancestor, Brian Shaw, younger brother of William Shaw. But there was a line next to Will’s name and a single line down under it. Since he was the oldest son he was expected to marry and have a kid, but I guess going on a mass-murder rampage put an end to that idea.

  I looked at the bottom of the Shifter Tree to see if any of them might have kids at school. There was a boy named Connor Edwards, who should be fourteen years old according to his birth year. He might be at St. Brigid’s. His little brother Logan would probably come next year. I wondered if those two boys were full shifters, and if Mr. Shaw would take them under his wing. It looked like there was a girl shifter named Alexandra Rowen who had probably graduated last year or the year before, and three kids from the Samson family: Costas, Brooke and Tracy who were in their twenties now. Mr. Shaw wasn’t listed as married though it looked like he had a little niece, a two-year-old called Sophia, who was born to his sister. I wondered if he was close to them, or if he missed not having a family of his own.

  Miss Simpson bustled into the library. She flipped the main switch and the overhead lights came on, bathing the books in bright light. “Oh! Miss Elian! I didn’t realize you were up already.” By the expression on her face I must’ve really startled her. I felt bad about it.

  “I wasn’t sure what time my first class started and I wanted to look around the library some more.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Saira. I meant to give you a schedule yesterday but I got caught up in all the business with Tom Landers’ father. Pleas
e forgive me for leaving you to your own devices.”

  “No worries. I managed to fill up my day.” With a free run outside, break-ins at the solarium, the Seer Tower and a new bedroom, a discovery of a Vampire’s lair, and a visit with said Vampire in the kitchen gardens. All-in-all a busy day.

  Miss Simpson regarded me a moment. “The minute I do complete your curriculum, Lady Elian will need to review it and make her notes. Perhaps we’ll just leave your schedule a little… loose at the moment?”

  I loved this woman. “That works for me.”

  She nodded. “Good. Now, come in. Can I make you a cup of tea?” Miss Simpson had such a proper Englishness to her it made me smile.

  “Yes, please.” I entered the annex and my eyes instantly traveled over the spines of books on the shelf closest to me. Miss Simpson filled an electric kettle and then added loose tea leaves to a delicate porcelain teapot. She set out two gorgeous china cups and poured the boiling water into the teapot to steep. All her business of making tea gave me a chance to get a look at some of the titles on the shelves.

  “Do you have any Elian Family genealogies I could look at?”

  Miss Simpson thought for a moment. “I believe your own Family book is kept by Millicent and would be the most comprehensive.”

  I grimaced. “Yeah, she’s not so generous with information.”

  “Of course.”

  “Can I ask you something, Miss Simpson?”

  “I’ll answer what I can.”

  “Why are the Families at war?”

  Miss Simpson busied herself pouring the tea. “That’s an enormous question with an even bigger answer, I’m sure you realize.”

  “Actually, I didn’t realize. I thought it might be simple.”

  She smiled wryly. “The enormity comes from the fact that each Family will give a different version of the truth. All will be true, but like any painting, until all the colors are applied to the canvas; you’ll never be able to see the whole picture.”